GTA: Dead Men
by sollomon
Summary: Four presumed dead Liberty City criminals are rounded up to form a dangerous crew.
1. Chapter 1

Deep in Broker the neon sign for Shady Mike's flickered on and off in the rain. A man in a brown leather jacket checked a crumpled note in his hand.

The shaggy haired man tentatively stepped into the seedy bar, shaking some of the rain off his jacket. He glanced around, focusing in on one booth with four men around it, sitting in silence. The man in a chair on the end of the table leaned his chair back and locked eyes with him. Well, eye. The red bearded man had a black eye patch over his left eye and a cigar hanging out of his mouth.

"Sit down, kid. You're late. Looks like we can start though." He plucked the cigar out of his mouth and motioned toward an empty seat. The man cautiously sat down, opposite from a heavy set blonde man and next to a sharp featured Asian staring straight ahead. The young black man across from met his gaze. The eyepatched man motioned to the bartender. "Five beers."

The bartender dropped off the drinks on the table. The asian man eyed his.

"I don't drink."

"I'll take care of that for you." The shaggy man said, leaning over and plucking the bottle away and placing it next to his, which he had already started working on.

"What are we all doing here." The blonde man cut in, with a slight east european accent. The question sounding like a statement rather than a question. The patched man leaned forward.

"You may not all know each other, but I know all of you. Dead men." He scanned the table, as the men eyed each other. "Disgraced men, wanted men, missing men. All presumed, assumed or hoped dead. And that makes you dangerous. Every one of you have been hidden away long enough to have disappeared off everyones map, but you all still have all the skills and experience of longtime crooks. With my connections, I can turn you into new people, and we can make enough money to disappear in style."

The black man stood up.

"This guy is full of crap, this is a trick. He's probably gonna just kill us once we're done with whatever he wants to use us for."

"Are you really satisfied living in that flat in Bohan? Cutting your merch three or four times just to pay rent? Especially after all that work you did with your boys and as soon as you mess up they just cut and run…" As he trailed off the man quickly sat down.

"So, evidently you know us. Who the hell are you?" The shaggy man piped up.

"I was recently put in the same position as you. Cut loose. But I still have friends and a desire not to let those bastards beat me."

"I mean I was kinda thinking in terms of names but-"

"No names. This is to protect all of us. If any of you know each other's names that means you could find out what each other did, and then we have infighting, and for this to work we cannot have that."

"So what are we calling each other by? Code names?" The blonde man leaned forward. The black man quickly raised a hand

"We're men who use guns. We'll go by guns." He pointed around the group.

The black man.

"TEC."

The asian man.

"Norinco."

The east european man.

"Makarov."

The shaggy American.

"Beretta."

There was a pause. Then a chorus of objections.

"Makarov is russian, I'm-"

"Is that because of all the rap-"

"I'm pretty sure Beretta is Italian-"

The patched man slammed his hand down. The chorus stopped. Norinco broke the brief silence.

"So what are you?"

He quietly placed a heavy Colt M1911 on the table in front of himself.

"Colt."

The men watched the gun and each other. Beretta spoke for the group.

"Are we all getting our respective guns?"

"After you prove that you're actually committed to this arrangement. By collecting on that chinese restaurant down the street." He leaned back in his chair, satisfied.

"You mean Sheriff Wang's? Why we knocking that over?" Tec asked.

Colt motioned at a man in an ill fitting suit who came over and stood next to him. As he talked his thick moustache shook.

"Sheriff Wang's hasn't payed protection in a month. Colt here said he had some you guys would do it to get your foot in the door. Get me what I'm owed, and I'll get you some real work."

"I don't do jobs for free." Norinco's hard eyes stared at Colt.

"If more jobs from Bricker here don't do it , getting your guns should. Are you doing this or not?" The men paused, each carefully considering their options. "Look, just go in at closing time, act all scary and-"

Makarov abruptly stood up and walked to the back of the bar where two other patrons were playing pool. He grabbed one of the cues, but one of the players held onto the other end.

"I'm playing with that friend." He slurred.

Makarov tightened his grip on the cue audibly, his knuckles going white. The drunk patron let go. Wordlessly, he marched back to the booth.

"Lets go."

Norinco nodded and followed him out. Beretta chugged the rest of his first beer and took the bottle with him. Tec tried to stammer out a protest before sighing and chasing after them.

The young Chinese man, mid 20s, sat idly at the cash register when Makarov slammed the door open, rattling a cacophony of bells. The kid stood up with a notepad in hand hoping to take an order. Makarov smashed the register off the counter with the cue, before pulling the kid close.

"Collection time."

He tried to stutter out a response as the other three entered. An older man came from the kitchen to find the source of the commotion. All five heads in the room turned to him. He bolted.

Norinco shot forward, smoothly sliding over the counter and slamming the man's head into the doorframe, before pulling him up onto the counter, his head hanging off. Makarov stepped parallel to his neck, holding the cue high like an executioner ready to decapitate. He repeated once again:

"Collection time."

The man screamed and pointed towards the counter. The kid stepped up from the ground holding a sawn off from under the counter, aimed to tear apart Makarov. Beretta whipped his bottle at the kid, smashing at his right shoulder and tossing out shards. Tec took a running jump at the kid, who got a shot of, biting into his shoulder and blowing out a front window before Tec could slam into him with all his body weight. The other three crouched to the ground, slowly rising as Tec grabbed his arm and yelled in pain, holding the sawn off and aiming it at the kid.

"No no no no! I pay! I pay!" The old man pleaded. "Under counter! Please just go!"

Norinco put a hand on Tec's forearm holding the shotgun, his hard eyes forcing it down Tec opened the gun and emptied the shells before throwing it hard out the shattered window. Beretta leaned over the counter and emerged with a brown envelope of cash. Makarov stepped back from the old man.

"Good choice."

The four walked out of the restaurant and back to the bar, quickly coming down from the adrenaline high they had gone without for so long. Reentering Shady Mike's, Beretta tossed the envelope at the man before flopping down in the booth with the others. Colt sat quietly.

"I'm impressed. You've earned these." He said placing and opening a small carry bag in his lap. He placed a weapon in front of each man.

"Norinco NZ-75, a clone of the full auto CZ 75."

"Makarov PMM, the 12 round version."

"Beretta 92FS, 9mm. Thats a new hammer so you shouldn't have any problems."

"TEC-9MM. No barrel shroud to lower profile. Its not full auto yet but I know a guy."

All the men examined their weapons. Each was exquisitely clean and well maintained, but entirely lacking identifying serial numbers or marks.

All seemed satisfied. Colt got up.

"I'll call you when Bricker gets us a real job. Keep your phones on." Colt walked out the door and disappeared into the rain.

One by one the men wordlessly exited, leaving only Beretta. He ordered a beer and a shot of whiskey. He had enjoyed being dead, while it lasted.


	2. Chapter 2

The five men stood quietly in front of the main display of the costume shop. Beretta tapped his foot undecidedly. Tec glanced around at the others.

"Is this really so important that we have to stand here for five minutes?"

"It really is. You may not have done this before but mask selection is important. It shapes your identity, how people think of you." Beretta said, motioning wildly towards the large display of masks in the window. "Here, Mak what are you thinking?"

"I'm stuck between the Skull and the Bear." He said, pointing out the two masks.

"Really? The bear? I mean you mentioned you aren't Russian, and it's kind of an emblem thing, so…"

"Well, you said personality, and the russian thing could be that. But what about the skull?"

"Look at you listening to me! You see, bonding!" Beretta leaned over and pointed at Colt before returning to Makarov. "If you want to play up the Russian thing I say go for it. With the muscles and the blonde and a yadda yadda, but the Skull is a completely different person, y'see? The Bear is a hulking mass of muscles that could crush a man like a beer can," He made the motion to emphasize it. "The Skull is not a beast, the skull is a fast Grim Reaper, speedy and silent, death dealer, like Norinco here."

Norinco gave a hesitant nod in agreement.

"Alright, I'll take the Bear then." Makarov said nodding toward Colt, who jotted it down on a scrap of paper.

"And the Skull for me." Norinco added.

"Woah now, lets not rush this." Beretta held his hands up trying to slow the decision. "Now if we got a Bear and a Skull, that seems kinda incongruous now doesn't it? We already got one animal, we could go all animals. Make it like a theme? Besides, Norinco like a kabuki mask would be cool right?" He pointed at a red devilish mask.

"I'm Chinese, kabuki is Japanese."

"Well, Makarov isn't Russian but he's gonna be running around as their goddamn mascot, you change move a country over too."

Tec leaned over to Colt, tapped him on the shoulder.

"Is this what legit crime is actually like?"

Colt shrugged.

"You'd be surprised."

Beretta continued.

"We could get some of those life-like ones. Become whole other guys?"

"You guys are criminals, not actors. Its hard to become a new person, much less a new age or race." Colt piped up. "Look I got Mak's, what are you guys getting?"

"I'm sticking with the Skull."

"Well if you don't want a theme okay, I won't stop you. Does anybody else want that kabuki mask? Tec?"

The black man shrugged.

"Aight, it does look pretty badass."

"Thats actually an Oni mask"

"You just said you weren't japanese?"

"That doesn't mean he can't know stuff about japanese culture, even I know what an Oni is."

"Makarov how the hell do you know what an oni is?"

"I read."

"Alright alright, I got one Bear, one Skull, one Kabuki, Oni, what the hell ever. Beretta what are you getting already?"

"Get me the clown."

"How fitting." Norinco said solemnly.

"Hah!"

"Don't encourage him, Tec. Colt, are you getting anything?"

"Nixon."

"Now that just doesn't fit at all."

"Course it does. I'm the criminal mastermind." Colt chuckled and walked into an alley off the store. Shaking a bum awake, he handed him a note and a wad of cash. "Get me these things, keep the rest. I'll be waiting right here."

All five men stood in the alley as the bum shambled off into the store, quietly waiting for his return.

"You know I'm not sure the clown was the right choice."

"Jesus christ I'm not sure we should have ever let him get comfortable, he hasn't shut up for hours."

Beretta made a mock zipper motion. There was a short pause before Tec jumped in.

"I ain't sure about mine too, actually, isn't a black guy wearing a japanese mask gonna seem kinda ridiculous?"

"Of course we're gonna look ridiculous, thats the point, we have to stand out, make a name, get attention."

"Colt, isn't not getting attention pretty important to continous work?"

"Not getting attention on _you_ is, if it's a, Bert what'd you call it?"

"Bert?"

"Yeah, Beretta, Bert. What'd you call it?"

"A persona, but I don't really dig Bert."

"Whatever, a persona, that's good, it gets you respect, gets you fear, less trouble in jobs because now people are afraid of you. Think about it." Colt tapped his head for emphasis.

The bum emerged with a paper bag. Colt grabbed it and motioned with his head towards the others to go.

"Wait, hasn't he seen our faces? Isn't that bad?" Tec put in, pointing at the bum.

Colt sighed and stepped up to the bum. He pointed to his eye patch.

"Hey, what's this?"

"Idunno spaceman, it's your planet." He slurred, before slumping back down and counting the spare dollars.


	3. Chapter 3

Tec idly drummed his gloved fingers on the steering wheel of the Honda Civic, watching as the glow inside the car flicked on as dusk fell. He had objected to the car choice, but the others had concurred with Colt that the sacrifice in performance was well worth the drop in conspicuity. The Oni mask lay in his lap. Beretta held his Clown mask in his gloved hands, inspecting it from all angles before checking behind him and hurriedly getting himself ready.

"Here he comes, get ready. Mask on, pull around when it's all set." He got out, pulling the mask on mid step, holding for a moment to shift the eyeholes into position. Inside the car Tec strapped his Oni mask on.

The heavy black man bounced down the Bohan sidewalk flanked by three other men, wearing sports jerseys and decked in gold. They laughed confidently, regaling each other with tales of their slum paradise. Beretta started to cross the street, headed on an intercept course. The group of men slowed their pace upon seeing the man in the clown mask and rough leather jacket, hands in his pockets. Their hands slowly crept towards their waist band.

Norinco crept out of his hiding spot behind the dumpster and towards the exit of the alley, his hand on the NZ-75 in his jacket. He pushed up against the wall and listened as the group's conversation shushed. Norinco had removed the inner lining of his Skull mask that obscured his eyes, vision was more important than intimidation. He waited for the signal.

In the next alley over, Makarov did the same. The four men between their alleys, with Beretta coming into the middle. His breath formed a light mist on the inside of the bear mask.

"Yo Joker, you lookin' for some trouble?" Said the heavy man, pulling his jersey up exposing a handgun tucked into his waistband.

"I'm afraid I'm lost. You know how to get to Mike's?" Beretta said, clicking off the safety on the 92 in his pocket and pulling it up to face the man, fumbling at his waist while Norinco and Makarov stepped out from their alleys and drew beads on the others. "Lets take a walk, Carmelo."

All the gangsters eyed the masked men, hands close to their weapons.

"Don't move." Norinco said hardly to the friends.

"Drop the gat, Carmelo. Your guys too." The clown said, his finger hovering on the trigger. He moved his aim down. "Are you going to drop the act or are you going to take one in the knee?"

Carmelo lightly picked up the gun and dropped it on the pavement, as did the other men hesitantly. Beretta made a circular motion with his off hand, and the Civic pulled around to the standoff, with the passenger side facing the sidewalk. Beretta grabbed the man and pulled him over to the popped trunk, keeping his gun on the other three.

"Get in."

The man eyed the dirty trunk and the masked men.

"You do this yo ass is dead."

"Been there." The clown said, before slamming the grip of his pistol into the side of the man's head and shoving him into the trunk and moving toward the driver side back seat. "Grab the guns, let's move."

Norinco and Makarov picked up the three gangsters guns as Tec and Beretta opened both the passenger side doors. The two men smoothly stepped backwards into the car, still watching the three, as the car drove off and they closed their doors amid a flurry of muffled cries. The four peeled off the masks.

"Don't talk so much on a job, huh?" Tec said, looking in the rear view mirror at Beretta.

"Tried it, its fun but not really intimidating, hurts the scare factor, y'know? People sometimes think you're filming a prank video or something. Not what you want."

All the men paused and listened to Carmelo's muffled threats.

"Went better than I expected." Tec said, breaking the silence.

"I doubt it'll last long, son." Makarov grunted.

Tec pulled around the back of Shady Mike's where Colt was waiting. The four got out of the car, still holding their masks.

"How'd it go?"

"Alright, so far. He had three other gang bangers with him, but masks and guns scared 'em loose. We got their guns, whatever we can do with that." Beretta said, rattling through the events. "Bricker here?"

"Should be a minute, I'm sure he has something planned."

As if on cue, the Cadillac pulled in behind them. Bricker got out, his moustache no smaller and suit no better fitting in the brief respite they had gotten from him.

"Gentlemen. Everything go alright? Nobody dead yet?" He scanned the four for disaster. "Good. Carmelo in there?"

The four nodded.

"They got the guns of his friends too. I don't know if you can do anything with that." Colt said, leaning against the wall.

"Your prints on 'em?" All four held up their gloved hands. "You. Grab one." He said to Norinco as he walked around to the trunk of the car, opening it to the cursing gang banger.

"B… Bricker. Hey man-"

"Shoot him."

Norinco made quick eye contact with Bricker before putting two shots into Carmelo's chest. Tec visibly jumped and Beretta flinched. Makarov didn't move.

"Jesus christ... " Tec said, in awe.

"Huh." Beretta said succinctly.

"Dump the car in Bohan, somewhere secluded. Leave the gun in a nearby trash can."

All five allies looked at each other.

"Bricker, are we starting a gang war?" Colt said, catching on to the events faster than the others.

"Look at it this way. You just got a lot more work." Bricker said, returning to his Cadillac and driving out of the lot.

The four cursed as they re-piled into the car. Colt stepped up the the men as the car started.

"I'll talk to the Bohan guys and see if I can get this to work. Get rid of Carmelo before you get pulled over and things really get bad." He watched as they drove off to dump the car befor stepping back into the bar and ordering a stiff drink.


End file.
